


all you have is your fire

by gearyoak



Series: cryptage tumblr prompts [4]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Date, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Secret Relationship, it's a lot, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 15:28:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21680398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gearyoak/pseuds/gearyoak
Summary: anon on tumblr asked for long distance relationship cryptage before crypto was forced to abandon his life. this is that, and then the aftermath of everything
Relationships: Crypto | Park Tae Joon/Mirage | Elliott Witt
Series: cryptage tumblr prompts [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1522958
Comments: 41
Kudos: 136





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so remember when i was like "man i just wanted to write short stuff when i asked for these prompts, but i wrote 6k :/"
> 
> yeah well. i'm an idiot. 
> 
> SO. this prompt was: "I know it's a bit of a ridiculous prompt, but what if Crypto and Mirage were in like a long-distance relationship before he became Crypto? Then the whole being framed happens and all Mirage gets is roadblocked in trying to find out what happened, and some new guy showing up" 
> 
> now i won't lie. i haven't finished writing this. i'm a 20k words now and i can't safely say i'm even half done??? which makes me a little apprehensive about posting THIS since i usually edit everything all together to make it more cohesive. but this goddamn prompt has been sitting in my inbox since before halloween and i just can't let anon wait any longer. 
> 
> so, to start it off, i know absolutely NOTHING bout the titanfall universe. I'm gonna get things wrong left and right, so to kinda back pedal on that before it's really even happened, i'm calling this an au for obvious reasons and more. shit like subway stations and twitter adjacent(????) social media still exist. solace is like an hour away from crypto's hometown because i said so. people drive cars. go stupid go crazy
> 
> second of all, i'm writing crypto's name as taejoon. still not 100% on the accuracy of that OR the korean i use throughout everything here. if it's so horrendously wrong, please for the love of GOD let me know. 
> 
> THREE. anon, like always, i'm sorry lmao 
> 
> four, the characterization in this is gonna be a bit off, since - for some reason - i decided i was going to take the privilege of developing characters that don't belong to me :^) Crypto especially, since he's gone through the most change we didn't get to see. like, i had no idea how to write pre-framed crypto. i still don't know how to do it.
> 
> in other words, this starts about three or more years before the actual game takes place, so the characters are younger and aren't rlly the same as what we've gotten in the game - YET. kind of. aaaaaaaaHAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH
> 
> five. FUCK . title is from hozier's arsonist's lullaby

Taejoon should have known something was wrong when Mila texted him she was stopping by. One would think that living in a zero bedroom apartment where his only privacy was his _bathroom_ would prevent siblings from barging in unannounced, but Taejoon’s sibling was Mila so it absolutely didn’t. The courtesy text he received meant he needed to get ready for something and, given the fact that it was three in the afternoon and he was still in bed, he was just _not_ in the mood.

All the lights in his apartment were off, his computer’s monitors were dimmed, blinds haphazardly drawn to block out the sun. Maybe, if he pulled his comforter up over his head and laid real still, she would think the place was empty.

But Mila’s short _see you in five_ text meant she was in the lobby of the apartment building and not that she was five minutes away. So when the door opened and she needlessly called out her presence, Taejoon was curled up and still debating on whether or not he wanted to hide from her like a child. Too late now. 

Taejoon sighed into his pillow. 

“Hey,” she told his back, because he hadn’t rolled over to face her yet. The aroma of coffee tempted him, but he refused. This was a bribe and he wouldn’t fall for it. The room brightened after the sound of blinds being pulled and he heard the paper cup being placed on the windowsill. “So, the Apex Games people called me.”

Taejoon _groaned_ into his pillow.

“I know,” Mila said. 

He flopped onto his back so when he spoke it wouldn’t be muffled. “Why?”

“Apparently the filming drones are on the fritz. Their in-building techs aren’t any help and I guess with the season’s opening coming up this week they got desperate.”

Taejoon looked over to the cup of coffee she’d left instead of answering. There was only one. He gave Mila a dubious look.

She glanced over her shoulder to eye the cup as well, and when she returned her gaze back to Taejoon she was wearing one of her coy grins. “Yeah, I told them you’d be there in an hour.” 

He flipped back over to yell a long, drawn out curse into the mattress. 

“Oh, come _on_ ,” Mila griped before he even finished his swearing. “If I went, it would take way longer! You’d figure it out in, like, three seconds.”

“That’s not true,” Taejoon said, because it wasn’t. Flattery was another tactic, just like the coffee bribery. 

Mila let out a little laugh. “Okay, it isn’t. But, listen, I’m actually really busy and _you’re_ obviously not.”

Taejoon pulled the comforter down just enough for her to see his glare. “I’m busy.”

She let the lie sit in the air for a second before she continued. “Okay, anyway, they’re expecting _someone_. If you do this I’ll buy dinner tonight.”

“It’s your turn anyway.” 

She rolled her eyes and groaned. “ _Fine_ , I’ll buy tonight and the next time.” He didn’t say anything and Mila’s smile turned hopeful. She picked up the cup from the sill and held it out. “I got you a coffee.”

There wasn’t a question of whether or not he was going to regret this. He knew he was going to. A part of him already _did_. “Fine.”

“ _Thank_ you, man. I really didn’t want to make that trip today.” 

Taejoon let out an aggravated grunt, because it wasn’t like _he_ wanted to, either. Still, he drug himself out from under the blankets and rummaged around the sidetable for his glasses.

“I want extra lo mein,” he grumbled out before heading toward his bathroom to change.

Mila didn’t answer. She did, however, manage to roll her eyes at him without completely looking away from her phone.

\----=----

The intern that led him through the tech wing had said about four words to Taejoon when he’d met him in the lobby. The first word was “ _Park?_ ” after he’d unwillingly met eyes with him the second he’d entered the Games’ building. When Taejoon nodded, the intern gestured with his entire arm to get Taejoon to follow him. A few wordless minutes and barren hallways later, the intern stopped at the end of one. He gestured once again, further down into the hall, and the last thing he said was, “ _It’s that way_.” 

It wasn’t that it was a bad experience, per se. Taejoon could always appreciate another person who didn’t want to be doing what they were doing, either. It was the thought of going back and forcing the intern into doing what he didn’t want to do all over again that had him hanging back. But, to be fair, the intern who was the one who gave him the Visitor ID, so technically it was his fault that they had to “talk” again. 

Taejoon didn’t move. He stared down at the keypad’s panel, then up at the plaque that read _Filming Drone Hub_ , then back down to the panel. He swiped the Visitor ID and it flashed red, beeping unpleasantly at him.

“ _Saekki_ ,” he hissed at it, then swiped the ID again to spite it. It got the last word, though, beeping once more before fading back to a neutral blue. 

He let out a long suffering sigh and closed his eyes. This wasn’t supposed to be his problem. He was supposed to be hearing about this later when Mila burst into his apartment to complain about idiot interns who didn’t know what they were doing, giving her a keycard that probably didn’t even have clearance to the _bathroom_ , what were these assholes thinking? 

Taejoon looked down the hall and thought about leaving. Just dropping off the ID at the desk, lie to the secretaries, tell them the drones should be functional, then return home and advise Mila to change her number. He only considered it for maybe a few seconds; Mila would kill him if he did that and he’d probably regret it as soon as he left. The owners of the Games had paid a lot of money when they commissioned him and Mila for their drones. He’d be an idiot to jeopardize any future chances to work with them again.

He opened his eyes to look down at the panel once more. He _really_ didn’t want to talk to anyone else unless it was about him leaving. 

Taejoon tried the ID again. 

The panel beeped and blinked red.

“ _Saekki_ ,” he repeated, desperately and more to the open air rather than at the panel. 

“That doesn’t sound good.” 

Taejoon didn’t turn right away. He went rigid at the sudden new presence and briefly let himself panic about how long they might have been there watching him swear at a door like a lunatic. There was no way he could pretend he didn’t hear them either. No one else was in this wing and he was sure his reaction to being addressed was severe enough to notice.

“Need a hand?” The stranger asked, taking the spot next to Taejoon.

“No,” Taejoon responded despite the last five minutes of internal turmoil he’d been put through. 

The stranger - one who Taejoon felt like he should recognize - seemed nonplussed at the short answer. He just grinned like maybe he thought Taejoon was being sarcastic and _yes_ , this man was familiar. Not in the _Oh, I just have one of those faces_ ways, either, but _A face you won’t forget_ kind of way. It’s when the smile on the man’s face goes from amused to brash that Taejoon realized he’d been staring too long trying to place him. 

“You work here?” The man asked, looking up to read the door’s plaque.

Taejoon looked to the door, too, in favor of accidentally staring at him for too long again. “Not really,” he admitted. 

He laughed. “‘Not really’?”

Quickly, Taejoon gave the man a fast once over. He was dressed nicely enough, but maybe still too casual to be up to par with a business’ dress code. Could he be a higher up? Is that why he recognized him just slightly? Perhaps Taejoon had met him before in one of those numerous and tedious meetings where all he and Mila did was nod and sign too many things.

If he worked here, though, he’d be able to help Taejoon. 

“I developed those,” he explained, pointing up to the plaque they’ve both thoroughly read over by then. “They haven’t been working, so they called me to fix them.” He left out a few details, but he wasn’t about to rehash that again - definitely not out loud, at least. 

The man’s expression lit up in what Taejoon thought might have been excitement. Those full, pouty lips parted around a small gasp before they pulled up in another grin. 

_You’re staring again_ , a voice unhelpfully informed him, but it went ignored to make way for a very sudden revelation.

“You made those?” The man asked.

“You’re Mirage,” Taejoon answered. A statement, because he was sure of it now. He’d seen his face enough times on Mystik’s coffee table, plastered across a different magazine every time Taejoon visited her.

Apparently, a lot of things that shouldn’t have happened were happening that day. When their drones had first been implemented into the Games’ network, he and Mila were required to be there day after day for all sorts of tests and configurations. Never, in the long months they’d been working, had they ever come across a Legend in the halls. They’d never even seen any of the no names that signed up for scrimmages. It was one of the reasons why they hated going; it was boring, long hours, and no one worth seeing was ever there.

Mirage’s head tilted and he got out half of a confused ‘ _what?’_ But, then his brain must have caught up. “Oh, yeah - the one and only,” he said with a proud smile until that faltered a little, too. “I mean, probably not really. I don’t actually have that patented.”

Taejoon only nodded slowly. He was… starstruck wasn’t the right word for it. He wasn’t an avid fan of the Apex Games, but it was still hard to get away from them. Besides what he’d seen in the media and in his foster mother’s living room, Taejoon didn’t know a whole lot about the man. He supposed _strange_ was the word for seeing someone so often in a picture and then seeing them for the first time in person. He didn’t really know what to say. What _do_ you say to a famous person when you’re not one of their fans?

Mirage cleared his throat, looking guilty over the silence that was left between them. “Uh, yeah. Anyway - I could probably get you in here, but - you weren’t lying, were you? About being here to fix the drones?”

Taejoon almost snorted. He was more likely to lie about a reason to leave than to be there. “No,” he told the other, showing off the issued Visitor’s ID just in case. 

“Ah,” Mirage said, nodding knowingly. “Yeah, did Marco take you down here?”

Taejoon shrugged.

“Yeah, that was - you wouldn’t know, why would you? You don’t work here. You already said that.” He twisted around a little to rifle through his pockets. After a short moment of searching, he retrieved an ID of his own, looking worn and well used. “I think this should work - you really weren’t lying?” 

This time, Taejoon did snort. “No,” he assured once more. 

The panel lit up green when Mirage swiped his ID over the face of it and the metal door hissed as it popped open from the frame. 

Taejoon felt his shoulders drop a little in relief. “Thank you,” he told Mirage, nodding his head once. 

“You, my friend, are very welcome.” He pushed the door open further and held it, waving an arm in a dramatic flourish toward the inside of the room and levelling Taejoon with a horribly charming, unfair smile. “After you.” 

He did as he was told if only to avoid losing his mind. 

The inside of the room was dimly lit with one massive console placed in the middle up against the far wall. Before that were several rows of docking stations, each one filled with podded drones that glowed or pulsed an icy blue color. Mirage went for one of those the second the door shut behind them and Taejoon realized a little late that he wasn’t planning on leaving. 

Mirage must have noticed the eyes on him, because he lifted his head to meet Taejoon’s inquisitive gaze, then looked back and forth between him and the drone he’d been examining. “Oh, I, y’know, no offense, but I just want to make sure you’re not actually some intruder, right? Because if you are, it’d be my fault you got in.”

Taejoon blinked but didn’t say anything.

“This way, if you are some secret agent here to steal information and you inevitably kill me for knowing too much, I’ll at least be at the scene and they’ll think I was trying to stop you. I’ll be a hero.” Mirage said it all with so much confidence, Taejoon wasn’t sure if he was being serious or not. Before he could ask, Mirage touched at one of the docked drones. “Can I?” 

Taejoon shrugged again and Mirage lifted it from its station almost giddily, not saying another word. He let the other be, moving over to the main console and waking it up. It kicked on in a second and displayed a generic login screen. They had given Taejoon his old admin access and with how the rest of his day had gone so far he half expected it to fail. The username and password did end up being accepted, though, and the screen darkened to a loading transition. 

“So what’s wrong with these guys?” Mirage asked from behind him. 

The sound of the drone’s casing being removed followed the question and Taejoon did his best not to wince. He didn’t turn around, either. He’d much rather look over what damage was unknowingly done to it when most of the work was finished.

“They need to be fixed,” Taejoon stated slowly. His hands moved over the keys to the console, focusing more on beginning the troubleshooting process.

“Yeah, you said that.” 

Truth be told, besides what Mila had told him, he didn’t really have too much to go on himself. A few manual tests on individual drones were probably his best bet if the main interface didn’t display specific problem units properly. Which was going to be a pain, seeing as there were at least a hundred drones docked. 

It looked like that was going to be the case, though. Going over performance logs, he couldn’t pinpoint anything that foretold of a bug or glitch in the programming. The only issues he saw dealt more with speed and system temperatures, meaning that - 

“Oh, ew,” Mirage spoke suddenly and Taejoon turned to see the cause of the outburst. Mirage showed him by holding up the now open hardware of the drone he’d been looking over. A lot of the parts inside were indiscernible due to the hard, caked dirt and grime that was layered over them. “Could this have anything to do with it?”

Taejoon bit his tongue in order not to swear again. Moving away from the console, he reached another docked drone and lifted it. Uncasing it showed off about the same dirty insides as the one Mirage held. 

Despite not outwardly saying anything, Mirage must have been able to glean enough from his expression, since he nodded solemnly along. “Yeah. That’s probably Bangalore’s fault. Her air strike kicks up so much dust, it’s unbelievable.”

This _really_ shouldn’t have been his problem. What kind of person polishes the protective casing for a _filming drone_ \- something that won’t even be _seen_ by anyone except the crew - and not the internal hardware that kept it running? For a short, hysterical moment, Taejoon wanted to storm back to the lobby and demand the name of the person who headed the tech department. He wanted to find them, look upon the idiot _personally_ so he could have a face to place the sudden hatred he felt for them. He wanted to scream at them, ask them who they put in charge of drone maintenance, then scream at _them_. He wanted -

He _really_ wanted to just go home.

“Hey, it’s not all bad,” Mirage said, setting his own drone down. “They might not all be that gross - and there’s a ton of cleaning stuff back in the workshops. I’ll go and grab it, then we can get started.”

The heavy feeling of exhausted dread dissipated enough to make room for a bit of guilt. Taejoon wasn’t a child, he shouldn’t be acting like that. This was his job, _he_ was the one who was manipulated into doing it. He didn’t really have any right trying to rope Mirage into doing his work.

So, to Mirage’s back, as he was already heading back for the door, Taejoon called out, “I can’t ask you to do that. You must have better things to do.” 

Mirage hung back in the doorway to smile at him again, “Nah, it’s good. I got time. I’m heading over there anyway - they’re running tests, checking on my cloaking upgrade’s ‘compatibility’ with the arena or something.” The word _compatibility_ was emphasized with air-quotes and Mirage rolled his eyes. “Like me going invisible for three seconds is cheating. Anyway, whatever - it’s the least I could do, since it’s your drones that do such excellent work of making me look good in the Games.” He punctuates the remark with a dramatic wink.

Taejoon attempted to overcome the ostentatiousness of it, tried to remain polite and maybe even come off as modest. He really didn’t want the other to think he had to stay and help, yet he also didn’t want to appear rude by refusing the offer. But, in an effort to get that all across, there were definitely so many things he could have said that was better than, “My drones have nothing to do with that.”

The implications of the words fully hit him the second they left his mouth, so he snapped it shut. Even Mirage’s little grin faltered a bit in his surprise, but he recovered quickly and it returned, practically blinding. 

“I’ll be right back,” he said to Taejoon, then disappeared around the doorway.

“ _Baegchi_ ,” he said to himself - quietly, just in case the other man could still hear him. 

In the ten minutes Mirage was gone, Taejoon had disassembled about five other drones. Out of those, only two hardly needed worked on. Pushing his glasses up just enough to fit a thumb and forefinger, he rubbed at his eyes and chose not to think about the dirt he was no doubt leaving there. Mirage laughed a little when he saw him, dropping something that sounded heavy onto the console everything was laid out on.

“Yeah, now you see why I handle my own upgrades. They get guns, and bombardments, and aerodynamics, but they just can’t get the little stuff.” 

Taejoon blearily looked down at what Mirage had brought, which just looked like a personal case full of tools ranging from small to even smaller. It was opened and he could see other odds and ends strewn about; a knife, a few oil-stained rags, three different sized bottles that were unmarked and filled at different levels.

“You really don’t have to help.”

Mirage scoffed as he dug out some of the rags and one of the bottles. “I know, but - “ He held out one of the rags to his left as if he was handing it off, but it was too far for Taejoon to take it. He quickly found out that it wasn’t meant for him, because the air shimmered and brightened, taking the form of another Mirage who took it for himself. “Four people would do it faster than one,” the first Mirage finished. 

“ _Ugh_ ,” another Mirage exclaimed from Taejoon’s other side and when he looked, he’d picked up one of the opened drones and was grimacing hard at it. “These are disgusting.”

The original Mirage seemed to sober up just a touch at Taejoon’s surprise. “Wait, sorry - I can call them off, I kinda forget they can be a bit much around new people - “

Taejoon cut him off by reaching out to touch the Mirage that had appeared next to him. His fingertips brushed the fabric of the fake man’s t-shirt, but it felt off. There was a buzzing in his skin that he barely noticed, like he laid his hand against the hub’s console rather than a person. There wasn’t any body heat, either, but the Mirage could obviously feel the contact if the curious look Taejoon was getting was anything to go by.

“I thought you said you specialized in cloaking,” he said before he could help himself.

Mirage exchanged a look from the first Mirage he’d sent out. It only shrugged and went back to spraying the liquid from the retrieved bottle onto its rag. “The cloaking is a part of it.” 

Taejoon was barely listening to him. “This is holo tech,” he realized.

“Yeah! Well, kind of. It’s not military grade, I developed it myself for the Games.” 

He released the hologram’s shoulder, just barely restraining himself from full on gawking at the man. “Really?”

Mirage nodded slowly, then sucked a breath of air through his teeth before spitting out, “Okay, me _and_ my mom - she’s an engineer, but we she taught me everything she knows and we worked together on it for the most part.”

And that - it actually had Taejoon feeling a little relieved. Of all the people who could have happened by and refused to let him work alone, at least it was someone with some semblance of experience. At least now, he wouldn’t feel as compelled to look over his shoulder to make sure Mirage wasn’t doing more bad than good - not as often, anyway. 

“Impressive,” Taejoon allowed himself to say, looking at the hologram he’d been observing rather than say it to Mirage’s face. Not that that did much good anyway, since it still winked at him. 

Mirage’s features brightened again. “ _Thank_ you. Nobody ever asks about my gear, it’s always, like,” he waved a hand around vaguely, “ _Would you consider us sponsoring you? What do you put in your hair? What’s it like being nominated for ‘Sexiest Man of the Year’ two times in a row?_ Y’know?” Before Taejoon could figure out a way to answer that - because the truth was a very definitive, _no, no I don’t -_ Mirage’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “But you didn’t, huh? You knew who I was but you didn’t know about the crème de la crème of the show.”

And now he had to figure out how to answer _that_ question, because there was no way he was going to admit he recognized Mirage from his mother’s magazine collection. “I don’t keep up with the Games,” Taejoon responded smoothly. It wasn’t a lie, so he didn’t feel too bad about it.

“Really? But you made these guys.” Mirage pointed to the drone his decoy was now wiping down as if that were reason enough. “How much work went into the propulsion systems, by the way? I’ve always wondered - they’re so quiet, I barely notice them.” He took another from the console and turned it over in his hands. “I mean, that might just be because of the general ringing in my ears from the gunfire, but _I_ can’t hear them.”

Taejoon laughed a little as he took one of the rags and another drone. “It’s the definitely gunfire, but thank you anyway, Mirage.”

“Elliott,” he said hurriedly. Taejoon and both of the holograms looked up from their work and at Mirage, who seemed to blink at himself. He covered it up fast with another one of those smiles. “My name’s Elliott Witt, you - you don’t have to call me Mirage.”

Briefly, Taejoon tried to recall if he knew that, if it ever came up on any of the magazine covers or headlines. He didn’t think it did. He said it for himself, “Elliott.”

Mirage - Elliott - nodded. “Yeah. With two T’s. In the Elliott.” His brow furrowed, like he was confused even though he was the one saying it. “And the Witt,” he added, then cut his gaze away from the other to put it pointedly on the drone.

“Okay,” Taejoon said, a little confused himself.

“Okay,” Elliott repeated, sounding strained.

A full minute went by before he remembered himself. “Taejoon.”

Whatever shutter had closed over Elliott’s face seemed to open again, revealing something that looked more eager than the previous bleakness. “What?”

“My name, it’s Taejoon Park.” 

“Taejoon Park.” The way he said it - with a questioning lilt - made it seem like he was asking, checking to make sure he’d said it correctly. He nodded and that earned him yet another grin, this one coming along slower and just a touch smaller. “Alright.”

\----=----

They don’t finish cleaning the drones, but they got over half of them back online. Elliott’s holograms worked like a well oiled machine, hardly speaking at all but offering a few laughs or specific expressions at certain things Elliott said. Taejoon listened along, honestly playing the part of one of the holograms more so than contributing much to the conversation. The other didn’t seem to mind, though. If anything, he just looked happy enough with the short answers to questions he asked about the construction of the drones - and the attention. Everytime Taejoon dared to look up from his cleaning to address him, he caught just the tail-end of Elliott’s expression going warmer, soothing into something pleased and preening.

He thanked Elliott again for the help, who shrugged, once again brushing it off.

“I’d follow you outta here so Marco doesn’t give you shit,” Elliott said as he collected all of his things, placing them back haphazardly into the repair kit. “But they’re probably expecting me back down there. Might be a little mad I’m making them stay late.”

Taejoon didn’t exactly sympathize, it kind of served them right. “Good luck,” he told him, because after his experience, he felt it was appropriate.

Elliott huffed out a reluctant chuckle. “Yeah, right?”

They followed each other out into the hallway, the heavy metal door hissing shut. Elliott was on one side, looking like he needed to go further into the building. He hung back, though, so Taejoon did, too, wondering if he had something left to say - or maybe he’d forgotten something, or wanted to ask something else.

“Have a good night, Taejoon.” 

“ _Ya_ ,” he replied about a second or two off beat. “Good night.”

Before Elliott turned, he left Taejoon with one last grin - and all that warmth from before seemed to be transferred directly into Taejoon’s chest, and it burned and burned and burned.

He’d left the Apex Games’ building much lighter than he ever expected he would and much later than he would have ever liked. The sun had long since set by the time he’d gotten back to his apartment, where the door was unlocked and Mila was seated at his desk. She was a woman of her word, though. Half eaten takeout was strewn across whatever surface was available and close to her.

“How’d it go?” She asked, not looking up from her phone.

Taejoon didn’t answer right away. He took off his jacket and tossed it onto his bed, deliberated for a few seconds, then slumped down next to it. His response came in the form as a very deep sigh.

Mila hummed. “Yeah, I get that.”

“I thought you were busy,” he accused, lifting his head - half to look at her, half because his glasses were digging into the bridge of his nose when he laid face down.

She gestured around at the array of takeout boxes and her own comfortable position in his chair. “I am?” 

He glared. “That was your last favor.”

“ _No,_ come on, I got you your food, see?” She gasped suddenly and slammed her phone down onto her thigh, like she just remembered something scandalous. Her eyes were wide and her lips pursed into a thin line to show off how serious what she was about to say was. “The shop on Stone Street is closing down.” 

The emotional highs and lows of that day were beginning to be too much. Taejoon pressed his nose into his mattress and ignored the dull pain his glasses caused, groaning long and hard into his blankets.

Mila shared the sentiment. “I _know_! Where are we supposed to eat now? No one makes spring rolls like they do, man.”

\----=----

Taejoon couldn’t say exactly why he didn’t tell Mila about his encounter with Mirage - with Elliott. It could have been the unconscious knowledge of how she would take it, that she wouldn’t believe a second of it. They’d always had that inside joke with each other, one that developed only after a week of working with the Games. Everytime they were forced to return to the building, they’d always joke about making sure they both had a pen on hand just in case they’d come across a Legend and needed something autographed. When Mila couldn’t get out of working her first job, she would jokingly ask Taejoon to get a picture with any Legend he came across, and to pose as if there was another person with them so she could edit herself in later. 

It was just something to laugh about. Meeting one was so unlikely, so how was she supposed to take it when - on the day she begged off and made him go in her place - Taejoon met one of the most famous Legends out of the bunch? It seemed like a lie to make Mila regret not going, to possibly get her to rethink finding an excuse not to go the next time they were called in for repairs or updates. 

That, and perhaps a small part of Taejoon wanted the surreal experience to just be his. He couldn’t really explain that, either, because it’s not like letting someone else in on it would change anything now. It had already happened, was set in stone, in his head forever as a memory that would resurface every so often around 4am when he was lying awake and dreading every word he’d said during the encounter -

But telling someone would mean that they would _know_ that it’d happened. They would analyze it - Mila surely would - and read into it. Taejoon didn’t want that. It would make him think about it much more than he already did; he would expect things or see things that might not really be there, like the meaning behind the warmth in Elliott’s smiles or why he laughed more than he probably should have at something Taejoon said that he didn’t mean to be all that funny. 

Maybe he just didn’t want to get his hopes up for no reason. 

In the end, he didn’t really get a choice in the matter as it all came out in the next week when Mila came through on her promise with a second dinner. 

Taejoon was at his desk, rolling an empty bottle of soda back and forth absentmindedly as he pored over a… well, it was certainly a website. He’d found it after following a few links trying to settle a petty little argument between him and Mila. A sequel to a popular movie series’ spin off had gotten announced, which lead to a discussion of why people still cared, which lead to a discussion of the series’ conflicting timelines, then plot holes, then character arcs, then finally came the bickering of which actress started her role in which movie. Honestly, he didn’t even know why it was a big deal to either of them. Neither he nor Mila had ever watched any of it. 

It might have mattered a bit more to Taejoon, as he’d been right, but now that he’d fallen down this rabbit hole, winning definitely was not worth the emotional cost. By the time Mila emerged from the bathroom, he was about three pages deep into a thread that had his head tilted and his face pulled down in a hard grimace. It was a train wreck, one he just couldn’t look away from.

Mila was standing behind him and he could just make out her phone over his shoulder. “Taejoon,” she began, tone oddly light yet deadly serious at the same time.

At the use of his full first name, he grunted to signify that he’d heard it but otherwise kept staring at the horror on his screen.

“Why is Mirage from the Apex Games following you?”

The bottle he’d been messing with rolled to the floor in a loud plastic clatter when his hand slipped off it. “ _Mwah_?”

Mila showed him her phone. It was Taejoon’s profile, for sure, one he hadn’t used or paid any attention to in a month or two since he’d deleted it off his phone to free up some space. Right underneath his bare-bones bio was the “also followed by” which was made up of a few of his and Mila’s mutuals. One of them had the verified checkmark next to them, though, and he recognized the man in the picture immediately.

“He found me?” Taejoon asked to no one in particular. He was caught somewhere between being completely elated and about four seconds away from a minor panic attack. He tried to think back on the last few things he’d posted. When exactly did Taejoon make that account? What kind of idiotic things did he say as a teenager if it went back that far? 

Mila seemed to have concerns herself, the main one being why she was the only one who was completely lost on how this could have happened. “What’s _that_ supposed to mean? Why is Mirage, Apex Legend, following you, _Taejoon Park_?”

Panicking while trying to find a way to answer, he chose to get defensive. “Why were you looking at my stuff?”

“I was going to come out and make a joke about blocking you because you pissed me off,” Mila answered without hesitating for a second. “But now figuring out how the hell Mirage - and I can’t stress this part enough - _Apex Legend_ , knows you is way more important.” Her eyes widened and then immediately narrow in an impressive array of emotions displayed in such a short time. “It was the drone call, wasn’t it?” 

Taejoon shrugged and turned back to his computer. Maybe if he pretended it wasn’t a big deal, it wouldn’t be.

“Wait, wait, wait.” She grabbed the back of his chair to spin it back around to face her. “No - “ She mimicked his shrug, over exaggerating it. “What _happened_? Did you guys talk? Why was he even there?”

He couldn’t remember why Elliott was in the Tech Wing, but he was sure he mentioned it. “Something about his gear, I think. Cloaking,” he tried to recall, and then, for some reason, he added before he could stop himself, “Did you know he developed his holo-tech himself?” 

And instead of being equally as shocked or as interested or intrigued by that, Mila said, “You actually talked to him.”

Taejoon was a little tired of this conversation. “ _Ya_.”

“Did you like,” she paused and gave him a meaningful look. “ _Talk_ talk to him?” 

Taejoon _hated_ this conversation. “Mila - “

Mila cut him off. “I’m just saying, someone as famous as Mirage, the Apex Legend, would not just follow some rando after a friendly, polite conversation, y’know?”

Taejoon was _not_ going to have this conversation. He stood up abruptly and brushed passed her. “I’m taking a shower.” 

She let him go, but not before asking, “Are you gonna follow him back?” 

“ _Go home_ ,” he hissed in response, not turning around. He slammed the door to his bathroom shut and effectively deafened himself from the sound of her cackling.

It always took a few tries to get the water to come out of the shower head rather than the spout. It coughed out a few, ice cold splashes of water before it sputtered up into the right place and sent out sheets of equally as unforgiving cold water. It would be warm enough after about three minutes and last for maybe ten, so it would be quick. But for now, he had a second to wait.

He heard his front door shut and Taejoon let out a sigh. His phone’s screen lit up when he retrieved it from his pocket. Instead of unlocking it, he spun it around in his hand, sliding against his palm smoothly before he caught it, spun it again, caught it, looked at the time. It hadn’t changed. His fingers drummed on the back of the case.

There he was, Taejoon realized. There he was, in his shitty bathroom in his shitty one bedroom apartment, alone, with a feeling in his chest he hadn’t experienced since school. He was _twenty-nine_ years old. He was too much of an adult to be having crushes - celebrity crushes at that. He felt pathetic, very stupid, and one hundred percent out of his league.

By the time Taejoon was getting into the shower, the app was already done reinstalling on his phone. 

\----=----

The first thing he’d checked when he got out was his last few posts. He was relieved to find that it was all pretty neutral; some videos, a repost of a brand announcing a new customizable keyboard, some stuff Mila and other people from school had tagged him in. He scrolled back up to the top to reread his bio, which was just his name and an embedded link. It lead to the Apex Games’ equipment page where his and Mila’s names were listed under the filming drone section. It was all pretty average. Pretty boring. 

He couldn’t blame Mila for her general disbelief of the situation. He was honestly in the same boat. There wasn’t any moment he could pinpoint in his and Elliott’s conversation where Taejoon had said or done something exemplary, worth remembering. Then again, to Mila, this was Mirage, a big name in media. He might have been having a hard time remembering the famous thing. To Taejoon, he was just someone he’d met at work who was way too pretty to be following him. 

But there he was, one of the first listed under the “following you” tab. Mirage, and about twenty other new people Taejoon had never heard of before. Almost all of them were painfully obvious bots, others were honest to god, genuine fan accounts. Some were for the Apex Games as a whole, a few for Mirage specifically. 

He did himself a favor and blocked all of them and tried to forget some of their rather vulgar usernames. How did people like Mirage handle that kind of attention? To be so thoroughly watched when they do something online? Taejoon nearly lost his mind over the one person following him, he couldn’t imagine what it would be like as a Legend.

The next thing he does is stare at Mirage’s profile for an embarrassingly long time, not knowing how to proceed. He kind of wished Mila was still there; she would have dogged him, yes, but at least she would have some idea of what to do. But, again, Taejoon was an _adult_. He could do this himself.

In an incredible burst of confident momentum, Taejoon followed him back and didn’t let himself hesitate when he brought up the direct messaging. Was sending something too much? Was he reading into this more than he should? Mila had phrased this whole ordeal as Mirage making “the first move”, but what if he and her were both crazy? What if Mirage had just followed him on accident? It would have been a huge coincidence, but maybe he was just looking Taejoon up to make sure he hadn’t just had a run in with a registered killer. 

_He didn’t mean to, this has to be some kind of mistake,_ he thought to himself. Then, somehow louder, he thought, _He remembered my name_. 

He typed out a message, sent it, then practically slammed his phone face-down onto his computer desk. Pushing his glasses up, he pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes until colors popped around his eyelids. He was twenty-nine. He was _twenty-nine_ years old. Why was this happening to him?

Before the reality of what he’d done could suddenly slam into him, he focused on collecting the empty energy drink cans and coffee cups from his desk. And from the rest of the apartment. Once his recycling can is full, he moved on to straightening up. Hanging up clothes that he’d left stacked in his only extra chair, gathering the dirty clothes he’d had strewn about - even the t-shirt he’d managed to get over his highest monitor. 

Half an hour later, his stress cleaning is interrupted by the incessant and pronounced buzzing of his phone on the thin wood of his desk. It left him frozen, standing in the middle of his now cleaner floor where that cold feeling returned in his stomach. He got a response, which meant he didn’t get blocked - not yet.

Taejoon forced himself to regain his composure. It was just going to be Mila. She was just going to be texting him about the weird woman that always seemed to be on the train she took to get to her own apartment. Or to tell him that she’d made it home alright or when she was planning on coming over next.

It wasn’t. It was a direct message notification, but it wasn’t from her. Taejoon’s breath caught in his throat but he opened it anyway, reading his own message - **_do your holograms have seperate accounts?_ **with a screenshot he’d taken of the several fan accounts before blocking them - and then finally, the response. 

**_If they did they’d all be verified by now ;)_ **

A surprised laugh escaped from Taejoon, at the received text’s contents and the idea of a received text as a whole. It was beginning to look less and less like an accident. It was evident that this was something Mirage meant to do. That as of then, it was just something that was happening.

His phone buzzed again, another message from the other but this time surprisingly lengthy.

**_So I kind of wanted to say sorry because I realized how creepy it was to just follow you kinda out of nowhere and then nothing happened for a long time and I was like oh god I’m a creepy weirdo so I honestly thought about unfollowing but then I didn’t know if you would still get the notification and how weird that would look and oh shit oh shit ow okay oh wow this really does pick up everything okay you know what we’re not going to send this stop listening stop_ **

Taejoon, completely lost, read the new message about fifteen times until yet another one came through.

 **_Okay so_ ** **_  
_** **_I was washing dishes so I was using talk to text and I meant to delete that but my hands were wet, hence the talk to text_ ** **_  
_** **_And this is worse than looking like a creepy dude on the internet_ **

_Oh god,_ Taejoon thought to himself desperately. Why did he find that to be as cute as he did? Why was he finding this grown man to be so adorable? Why was this _happening_? 

**_sorry i don’t really go on here often_ ** , he sent back, deciding to spare Mirage on mentioning his obvious mini-meltdown any further. Then, because he was _certainly_ one to talk, he also asked, **_why are you doing dishes at four in the morning ?_ **

Then, to not look like a complete hypocrite, Taejoon made his way over to his still-unmade bed and fell into it rather than finish the sporadic cleaning. While he was fumbling around with the phone charger’s wire that was caught between his mattress and the wall, another message came in.

 **_We just closed_ ** **_  
_** **_My bar I mean_ **

Taejoon paused. He hadn’t seen that one coming. **_mirage works at a bar ?_ **

**_MIRAGE doesn’t work at a bar, ELLIOTT owns one_ **

There was a that distinction again, more prominent this time around, though. Taejoon read the text over and was reminded of their first meeting, how he was instantly corrected when he used the man’s stage name rather than his real one. 

Finally the wire came loose and he was able to plug his phone in and settle down. **_right elliott with two ts in the elliott and the witt_ **

The next text that came through had Taejoon laughing again.

**_Pls don’t remind me of my own shortcomings, I am very sensitive to personal attacks_ **

He was cute, Taejoon could admit that to himself. Elliott was very cute, and Taejoon was probably _very_ fucked.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's a weak one, boys. 
> 
> okay so to touch on some things. ONE i don't know the geography of any titanfall planet, so if distances between points of interests (in this case, cities) seem fucky, that's why. 
> 
> TWO dialogue between taejoon and mila might also seem a bit fucky in this one. i don't date and i don't talk to any of my siblings about who they're dating, so i have NO IDEA what a realistic conversation about dating between a brother/sister looks like. from the bottom of my heart MY BAD. also spoilers i guess for the chapter (him and mirage go on a date)
> 
> THREE I THINK ACTUALLY EVERYTHING ELSE WOULD MAKE MORE SENSE AFTER YOU READ IT NEVER MIND 
> 
> enjoy this for the holidays my dudes!!! this was backlog from what i already had written and if you don't follow me on tumblr, then you don't know this BUT i am taking a little break from writing for a hot second. just to enjoy the holidays and gather some of the motivation and rejuvenate the single, crispy, dried up brain cell dedicate to writing
> 
> good luck, gamers, sorry it's not the best but hopefully it's evidence that i should take this break, for everyone's wellbeing lmao
> 
> (italics mess up formatting, i'm sorry and i hate it too)

Elliott Witt apparently loved to cook. For almost every dish out there, there was a modified Witt family recipe that was superior to the original, no competition, no questions asked. He knew odd facts about certain vegetables, had tips for substitutions, knew what drinks paired the best with what food, and had uncommon tricks for common meals up both his sleeves. Taejoon wanted to admit he didn’t cook all that much just to see Elliott’s reaction since he seemed so passionate about something so mundane, but he didn’t want to miss out on his raving. 

He was also an unapologetic rapid texter. There were times where Taejoon would be focused on something and he’d startle intensely from the sudden vibrating of his phone, once, twice, three times - sometimes more. They always started out short but grew in length as each message came in, like Elliott was easing into the full extent of what he wanted to say. Slowly but surely, he seemed to be incorporating more and more ridiculous emojis. 

And technically Taejoon already knew this, but Elliott was clever. He’d gotten a hint of it when they’d met in the drone hub, but that was all it was - just a small bit. He picked up on Taejoon’s dry humor almost instantly, though, and even bit back with his own brand of snark. The conversations never got boring; Elliott was able to carry out surprisingly in-depth and knowledgeable conversations about some of Taejoon’s work. Along with that, he threw in some absolutely benign, random facts that rarely had anything to do with the topic of discussion and almost always finished them with “ _ I don’t remember where I learned that _ ”. Those kinds of texts always came late at night, right before Taejoon talked him into going to bed. Elliott talked a  _ lot _ , but in Taejoon’s opinion, most of it was worth listening to. He was probably a lot smarter than he gave himself credit for and it was a shame, really.

They mostly kept the same schedule, as well. With Elliott working and managing his bar and Taejoon not having gone to bed before 11pm since he was probably fifteen years old, they generally woke up around the same time. Typically, though, it was Taejoon who was waking up to a text from the other, whether it be a post Elliott sent because he thought it was funny, or a musing he had, or just a simple “good morning!” with an attached photo of a spilled protein shake on his kitchen floor.

Talking to Elliott was just - Taejoon really liked it. It never felt demanding, like he never had to worry about how he would answer or how quickly he should reply. Everything came naturally, and it came to them so easily. 

So he wasn’t too surprised when, as he was checking his phone in the elevator to his apartment, Elliott had sent the text he did.

**_So the season’s starting soon and I kinda wanted to see you again before I have to go back up_ **

A mechanical ding placed Taejoon on his floor and he stepped off with the tenant who lived across from him. They politely said nothing to each other, maybe because she could tell Taejoon was more focused on himself, thumb tapping on the side of his phone case rather than on the keyboard.

He didn’t really know why he was hesitating. It had been pretty obvious to the both of them that meeting again wasn’t something either would be opposed to, it was just a matter of one of them asking. It had been a fun game for a bit, finding ways to dance around the subject, but now it was real and Taejoon’s insides froze up. Talking over DMs was one thing, but meeting again? In person? On purpose and meaning to do it? 

He hadn’t answered yet, and when he was opening his front door another text came in.

**_No pressure btw don’t say yes if you don’t want to_ **

And then suddenly everything that seized up before started working again, the minute wave of panic washed out by the golden warm fondness that swiftly took its place.

**_don’t be an idiot_ ** , he sent back and then, in another message because Elliott’s rapid texting habit was a bit contagious,  **_what did you have in mind_ **

Elliott’s response was pretty fast. 

**_How about my place?_ ** **_  
_ ** **_The bar I mean_ ** **_  
_ ** **_Unless solace is too far_ **

It wasn’t, but it wasn’t that close either. Taejoon would have to leave early to make it on time no matter what, and depending on how long he stayed out, getting a train home might be semi-difficult. 

**_when_ ** , he asked anyway.

\----=----

“Are you going out?” Mila asked two nights later. She had taken control of his computer desk again, scrolling through some questionable images that were no doubt going to be featured as his desktop background in the near future. 

Taejoon scoffed maybe a tad too forcefully. “Just because I showered doesn’t mean I’m going out.” 

“You’re getting dressed.”

After Taejoon pulled the red and white baseball tee that had been hanging up by his desk, he leveled her with an irritated look. “ _ Obviously _ .” 

“No, I mean, you’re getting dressed in going out clothes, you know?” 

He rolled his eyes.

“Where’re you going?”

He had kind of wanted to avoid this, hadn’t wanted to make a big deal over it just in case things didn’t go well. But maybe Mila and her tendency to just drop in whenever she wanted was a blessing in disguise. He was getting out of Suotamo for the night, and it was probably a good idea to have someone know about that.

“Solace,” he told her, and to avoid looking at her he moved over to his chair full of clean clothes to search for his jacket.

“It’s seven o’clock,” Mila said incredulously. A realization must have struck her because her face changed and she uncrossed her legs to plant her feet firmly on the floor, leaning forward. “Wait, TJ. Are you going out to see someone?”

Taejoon didn’t answer.

“Are you going on a  _ date _ ?”

And, well, he wasn’t going to  _ lie _ . He just didn’t want to call it that, not out loud at least. “Yes,” he muttered, pulling the jacket out from underneath the pile and straightening it, checking to see if the way it’d been folded had left any creases.

Mila put an effort into downplaying her reaction to his honesty and Taejoon was more than thankful. Outwardly, he was sure he seemed composed, but inside he felt like a nervous wreck. He didn’t need to feed into that.

“Okay, wow. Uh, good luck, I guess?” She might have winced a little at herself, but Taejoon couldn’t be sure.

“Remember to lock the door when you leave this time,” he said as he pocketed his phone, ready to head out and get out from under the awkward tension.

“What, you expect me to leave?” At first, he took it as a joke, playing off the fact that she basically lived there, but then the serious tone in her voice registered and he stopped, half out the door. Mila was looking at him in a way that made him feel like he’d said something  _ very  _ stupid. “I’m not leaving until you get back, dude. You’re gonna have to get back into the city at  _ night _ .” 

Taejoon let out a short laugh. “I can take care of myself.” 

“Mystik would kill me if she found out I didn’t and you know it.”

“We’re not kids anymore.” 

This time, Mila laughed. “Tell  _ her  _ that.”

He held his hands up, “No thank you.”

“Exactly. But seriously, though. Have fun, dude.” 

Have  _ fun _ ? On a  _ date _ ? Taejoon didn’t think fun was ever involved on a first date; he was always too focused on keeping his heart rate manageable. “Okay,” Taejoon said for lack of anything better. “Thank you.”

\----=----

Solace had always been a bit cleaner than Suotamo, and a lot less cluttered. That wasn’t really saying a whole lot in the grand scheme of things, though. A lot of places were less crowded than Suotamo. But at night, Solace seemed to go to sleep. The streets were practically empty, all of the stores on the main streets dimming their lights save for the few 24 hour convenience stores. 

Even the bar didn’t seem to have a lot of action. When the GPS on his phone notified his arrival to his destination, he almost double checked to make sure the address was right. But there it was, the bright neon sign doing its best to grab the attention of anyone walking down the street. It was bright pink with an odd pastel looking yellow for the accent on the lettering, reading  _ Paradise Lounge _ .

The inside was nothing Taejoon hadn’t seen before. Red vinyl booths lined the wall with barely enough room between them and the round top tables scattered across the front. The long bartop housed plenty of stools and showcased the shelves of liquors and whiskeys whose odors were soaked into the floor, the wood, all the seats. It would have been overwhelming if not for the warm, hearty smells coming from what could only be the kitchen in the back. The overhead lights cast an orange-ish, dim glow that mixed poorly with the neon decorations hung up against the walls but was still somehow comfortable to sit under.

There was nothing really outstanding about it. A lot of bars - unless they had a specific gimmick they tried too hard for - tended to be relatively cookie-cutter. It wasn’t a bad thing; if anything, it actually eased some of the nervousness that had been aching in Taejoon’s stomach.

Actually, he took that back. There was something a little outstanding about the place, and that was that three of the same man were working the bar. 

One of them, the one that was facing the front door, stared at Taejoon with wide eyes, mouth opened just a little in obvious shock.

“He showed up,” he whispered loudly to the other man who’s back was to them, concentrating more on the glasses he was drying. 

But then that one turned around with a questioning hum and, once he saw what his double was talking about, a familiar grin spread across his face. He never got to say anything, though, because the third - and Taejoon suspected the  _ real _ \- Elliott stood abruptly from where he must have been crouched behind the counter, a coaster in one hand and a wet rag in the other.

“Hey,” Elliott breathed out, looking a lot like his hologram, like he couldn’t believe Taejoon was there. 

Worriedly, he started to wonder if he forgot what day he was supposed to meet him. Did he get it wrong? It wouldn’t be the first time Taejoon lost track of where he was in the week, but that usually came after a few days with very little or no sleep. 

“ _ Annyeong _ ,” he said back and dared to move closer to the row of empty stools.

Elliott turned to the first hologram and shoved the coaster and rag into its hands hastily, then wiped off his own on the small apron tied around his waist. He faced Taejoon again with a little more composure. “You came.”

“You asked me to,” Taejoon replied with a little shrug.

He stopped in front of Elliott, but didn’t take a seat yet. There wasn’t anyone else sat at the bar - actually, there weren’t many seats filled at all. Only two other patrons were there with them; a person tucked away in the booth farthest from the door who Taejoon couldn’t see all that clearly and then a woman at one of the tables. She seemed more interested in the laptop than in anyone or any _ thing _ else, even the plate of pasta sat in front of her. 

It was cozy, a lot calmer than he might have expected for a bar that was owned by an Apex Legend. But maybe that was the point of it; there weren’t any TVs hanging up or a display of any kind of Apex Games merch. Perhaps it was meant to be neutral ground, private but not isolated. Taejoon found that he liked that about the place. 

“What kind of bar serves spaghetti?” He asked as he finally claimed one of the stools, nodding over to the woman while he did so. He noticed that the hologram that had been wiping down glasses went back to work, but had a hard time hiding the fact that he looked over his shoulder at Taejoon every so often.

“First of all,” Elliott started, mock-serious, “this is a respectable business. That’s homemade pasta with a tomato meat sauce, not  _ spaghetti _ . Second of all, the kind of bar that serves that is  _ my  _ bar, where people can enjoy a quiet evening with a nice paired red wine and finish a - “ He glanced over to the woman quickly, watching how she was typing away furiously at her laptop, then back to Taejoon. “ - a thesis? I don’t actually know what she’s doing all the time.”

“I’m sorry if I offended you,” Taejoon said flatly. “I’m sure your spaghetti tastes great.”

Elliott dropped the serious facade to laugh and Taejoon also found that he liked this much better. There were just things you couldn’t get over text. He had been nervous initially, but he didn’t think he’d ever actually turn down the chance to hear that laugh in person.

“Oh, speaking of, did you want anything? To eat - or drink? On me,” Elliott added on quickly. “Since I’m the one that made you take the hour trip out here.”

Hour and a half, but Taejoon didn’t mind too much. He’d gotten some work done on the train. He wasn’t going to mention it either way.

And it might have been a bad idea to drink since the last thing he ate was a granola bar a few hours ago - too wired about that evening to muster up an appetite - but he wouldn’t mind something to soothe over the last of his nerves. “Redwood?” 

Elliott blinked. “Like - the whiskey?” 

Taejoon nodded slowly. “Do you have it?”

“I - “ The surprise was swept away for that mock-seriousness again. “ _ Yes _ , I have it. What do you take me for?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, moving over to the shelves of bottles and picking one out from the back without having to search for it. Wordlessly, the hologram that was drying the glasses picked one from the stack and slid it over the countertop where it stopped just in Elliott’s reach. He caught it in one hand and drew it closer, focusing more on twisting the cap off the bottle with the other hand. 

The bottle is tipped, held at a practiced angle, and the amber liquid streamed from the spout into the glass, then finally it’s placed in front of Taejoon.

“Whiskey, neat,” Elliott announced, going back to replace the bottle on the shelf.

Taejoon took a generous sip, letting the gentle burn ground him. The hologram collected all of the now dried glasses and caught his eye as he went about stacking them on another shelf for a display. It seemed to preen under the attention, tossing up a glass and catching it in the opposite hand with an exaggerated wink. Taejoon felt the corner of his mouth twitch upward and he shook his head.

“Do you run this place by yourself?” Taejoon asked as soon as Elliott returned to his spot in front of him. 

“Uh, kinda. They help,” he gestured toward the two holograms behind the bar with him. “I usually have one out back for the kitchen but, as you can see - “ He waved a hand around the mostly empty floor. “Business isn’t exactly booming. Not that I mind, really, I kinda only took this place over so I don’t get bored during the off season.” 

Taejoon thought that was a shame. It was a nice place; if there was something like it near where he lived, he’d probably go out more. “Are you going to miss it?”

Elliott looked around for himself, took in his surroundings, seeming to evaluate his answer. “Nah, not really. Maybe a little bit. But if I had to choose between this and the Games, I think I’d probably choose the Games every time.” Taejoon hummed into his drink on the next sip in a way that made Elliott give him a look. “Oh, c’mon, wouldn’t you?”

“No, I don’t really see the appeal of participating in a bloodsport.”

That made Elliott’s look more severe. “Uh,  _ money _ ? Fame?”

Taejoon huffed an amused snort. “The last part doesn’t interest me.” 

For some reason, that seemed to mean something to the other man. It was quick, though, just a brief flash of something soft. But Taejoon knew it happened, because then Elliott said, “Yeah, I like that about you.” 

He looked down at his glass, like maybe he could hide his smile there, and picked it up to drain the rest of the whiskey. Elliott didn’t immediately offer to pour him another, which was probably a good thing.

“Technically, though,” Elliott said before a silence could stretch too long between them. “You still kinda of participate in a bloodsport. Not actively, but you help produce it.” 

“By being their on-call repair man.”

“ _ No _ , you’re the whole reason it’s being filmed! Stop trying to be modest, that’s my job.” 

Taejoon scoffed incredulously. “That is  _ not _ your job.”

“Excuse you, I’m incredibly humble,” Elliott retorted. " _Humble Witt_ is what they call me around here, just ask anyone."

The drink surely helped, but Taejoon was realizing that the longer they talked, the more simple it all felt to him. He wondered when that was going to stop surprising him, that it was just going to be like that; after their first meeting in the Apex Games building, then the first exchange of text messages, then the constant stream of conversation in the weeks that followed, up until now. No matter how they did it, what method they chose, talking to Elliott was always going to be easy. 

With anyone else besides Mila and Mystik, Taejoon had always felt painfully aware of how little he said to others, how very little he contributed to conversations. He’d always just felt uninteresting, too quiet, boring. Elliott picked up a lot of his slack, though. Taejoon wouldn’t necessarily call it rambling, because that had negative connotations to it and whatever Elliott was doing wasn’t bad. He liked listening to it. And whenever he did find himself speaking up, whether it be to comment on something or answer a question, Elliott seemed to soak it all in with those eager eyes. 

They talked for a good while, long enough for the effects of the second whiskey to fade away. He was only given the glass after he agreed to drink it alongside something, which is how they ended up sharing a plate of admittedly amazing fries.  Those are long gone by the time the woman packed up her laptop and headed for the exit. One of the holograms was making its way toward the back with the mostly untouched plate of spaghetti when they heard the door shut. At some point, the person who’d been sat in the corner booth had left as well, leaving behind a clean table.

For the first time that evening, Taejoon looked at his phone. He probably should have left a while ago.

“I can walk you to the station,” Elliott said, drawing Taejoon’s attention back to him. “You just gotta give me, like, ten minutes to lock up. Won’t take long.”

Taejoon nodded, knowing that he could have made the walk by himself, but he really just didn’t want to say no.

It was colder outside then compared to when Taejoon first got there. He shoved his hands in his pockets to preserve the feeling in his fingers while it lasted, Elliott doing the same after he fumbled around with the fastenings on his own coat. Despite the chill, neither seemed willing to hurry their pace. They walked as if on a calm stroll, shoulders bumping against each other every so often, making their way down a frost-layered sidewalk with no one besides the street lights to see them. 

By the time they reached the shuttles, Elliott was virtually shivering, burrowed as far into his coat’s collar as he could manage where only the reddened tip of his nose poked out. The sight would have been endearing had Taejoon not guiltily reminded himself that Elliott was going to have to stay out in the cold much longer than he did.

“I shouldn’t have let you do this,” he told Elliott as they descended the stairs toward his shuttle. 

“Wha? Oh.” Apparently only just then becoming conscious of his effort to block out the cold, Elliott made a point to straighten out and away from his collar and waved Taejoon off. “It’s good, I live, like, two minutes from here. N-no big deal.”

They stopped just before the boarding terminal, Taejoon taking one step more than Elliott. He turned around, faced him. “Your season starts next week.” One of them had to address it.

Elliott nodded. “You gonna watch?”

“I never have before.”

“You should now.”

“Why should I?” He asked, feeling himself smirk just the slightest.

“Because  _ I’ll _ be in them,” Elliott said. He was playing along.

Taejoon made a show of pretending that the other was asking far too much from him. “I’ll think about it.”

“Oh, so gracious.” 

Behind him, Taejoon could hear the hissing of the shuttle starting up, maybe having minutes before it’s set to leave. Still, he didn’t move to catch it. Elliott noticed.

“I have to go,” Taejoon said, as if it wasn’t obvious.

“Right,” Elliott said back.

And he’s the one who closed the distance between them, but Taejoon was the one who reached for him. His hands are at either side of Elliott’s face, gently bringing their lips together and he’s immediately struck with how Elliott tasted just a little bit like the salt from the fries they shared, how comfortable the press of Elliott’s hand at the small of his back is, how Elliott’s beard rasped against his chin, against his fingertips when he touched at the line of his jaw.

Elliott kissed him slow, with no urgency, like neither of them had any place to be and even if they had - even though they  _ did _ \- he was going to take his time. Elliott kissed Taejoon like he wanted it to last.

But Taejoon really did have to go, and he knew that he could probably get lost if he let himself. Even in the few short seconds, he almost forgot that they were in a train station where the air was freezing and his ride home was likely to leave without him. Letting it go would have almost been worth it, because that burn was back - not the one from the whiskey, the one from way before, from the first time they had to say goodbye.

Elliott pulled away, leaving a cold spot on Taejoon’s back where his hand had been. “I’ll - “ He paused. “I’ll see you later?”

Taejoon nodded, trying to suppress the giddy feeling that had a stupid smile spreading across his face. “Sure.” 

He’s passing through the turnstile when he heard a sudden, “Oh, uh - goodnight, Taejoon.”

He doesn’t stop, because the train’s doors were sliding closed, but he turned around so he could look at Elliott and see the way he grinned when he said, “ _ Daeume bwa. _ ”

The train was mostly empty and he found a seat in the middle with unoccupied spots on either side of him. He didn’t look out the window so see if Elliott’s still standing there, because he really,  _ really  _ needed to go home. There was a buzzing in his fingertips, across his shoulders, against his lips, and the source must have been that fire in his chest, the one that burned and burned and burned.

\----=----

The door was unlocked when he got back to his apartment, but Mila was thankfully still inside, just as promised. She hadn’t moved from the desk but had shrugged off her zip-up hoodie and made herself a cup of tea, obviously settling in.

She looked over when the door shut, eyebrows raised with a coy little smirk. “You’re back. Here I was thinking the date had gone  _ really _ well.” 

Taejoon pulled a disgusted face as he ventured further in. “It’s a two hour train ride.”

Mila hummed. “Was it worth it?” 

By then, Taejoon had gotten pretty good at schooling his expressions, but just in case he turned around while he plugged in his phone so she couldn’t see if his expression gave anything away. “I’m not dead.”

“I’ll take that as a good thing.”

He sat down on the edge of his bed to kick his shoes off, catching sight of his computer screen and a half filled out form it displayed as he did so. “What are you doing?”

Mila’s chest expanded with a deep inhale, one she released slowly and with little noise. “They’re cutting hours again, so I need to look for a second job if I wanna make rent anymore.” She placed her elbows on the desk to lean her head in her hands, red hair falling around her face like a curtain. “But the only places hiring are, like, restaurants and  _ they  _ don’t care about my fastest WPM.”

She’d wanted it to be funny, to come out lighthearted, but Taejoon didn’t say anything because he knew he would sound guilty. Mila didn’t like that, because that would make  _ her  _ feel guilty, and she said that never got them anywhere. But he believed that they were finding his silences - always drawn out and awkward - were a little worse. He was still struggling to find a decent response to situations like that, because he  _ did _ feel guilty. Things weren’t terrible, but when it was more likely to get worse than it was to get better, it was easy to feel a little hopeless. To feel like maybe he should be doing more.

Mila lifted her head back up and turned around in the computer chair after a minute of quiet. There was a pinch between her brow and she smiled at him apologetically. “Sorry, dude. I didn’t mean to ruin the good vibes after your date. How’d it go?”

The change in subject was mostly for her, but Taejoon had zero qualms about allowing it. He just wished it didn’t involve the word “date” since it still got his face feeling too hot. “Fine.”

She rolled her eyes at the short answer but didn’t give up. “What’re they like?”

He actually thought about that one for a second, because Elliott was  _ a lot _ . But most of what Taejoon thought about him would be embarrassing to say out loud, especially to his sister, so he settled on saying, “Talkative.” 

“Huh,” Mila mused. “Sounds perfect for you, if that opposites attract theory holds any merit.”

\----=----

The Apex Games had always been a big deal. The season’s openings were something that was marked on calendars, talked about on news sites, kicked off an avid Fantasy Apex community within workplaces or large friend groups. Clothing stores had sections dedicated to just Apex merch, Legend costumes were manufactured in bulk, drinks or food items in restaurants were named after weapons.

It was just a lot. 

Taejoon wasn’t lying when he said he hadn’t really cared about it. He  _ would  _ be lying if he said he didn’t care about it  _ now _ . 

The day the pre-season started was the third day in a row he’d been called into work. It had ruined what already horrible things he’d done to his sleeping habits and made him remember why his whole body reacted badly to the sound of a ringing phone, but he didn’t immediately fall back into bed like he planned. 

Elliott had texted him early in the morning, which was not new. Now he was more likely to only message Taejoon at the very earliest or the absolute latest. In the weeks that followed their second meeting, Elliott’s time had been consumed mostly with press and preparation. The most Taejoon got from him throughout the day were a few sentences about what had happened to him so far - which were a drastic difference to his rapid fire rantings he used to send. 

**_Preliminaries start today_ ** , the sent message read. 

**_good luck_ ** , Taejoon replied.

Elliott’s response had taken less than a minute to come in.  **_Baby I don’t need luck_ ** , which was accompanied by three golden hearts. 

And so maybe Taejoon was a little curious to see where all that confidence came from, wanted to check to see if it was warranted. So, he got home, reheated some dinner Mystik had given him last time he visited her, and then sat himself down at his desk to search for a free streaming site. 

By the time he found one, the scrimmage had already been playing out for close to an hour. The number of teams were bloated as most of them wouldn’t make the cut to the actual season. They probably allowed so many new squads into the scrims to act as fodder for the more experienced teams to create flashy plays and hype for the views. 

About half of the teams were left as Taejoon was finishing his dinner, and he was probably putting half his attention to the monitor it was playing on. The production value was nowhere near bad and there wasn’t any downtime, the cameras always focused on some sort of gunfight or chase happening in the arena. Still, Taejoon wasn’t so enraptured. The laptop a coworker had dumped on him interested him more than the Games, but that was only because the laptop’s owner was incredibly stupid. It took clicking too many wrong links and their OS to bug out to the point where it could barely run for them to realize they might have had something wrong with their computer. Taejoon’s coworker had apparently spent about an hour on it before she realized she didn’t want to devote any time on the mess. Taejoon didn’t shy away; he needed the extra money and the challenge.

The laptop’s screen blinks to a BSoD error and Taejoon frowned, leaning back in his chair. 

Alright, so maybe he wasn't concentrating on his work as much as he should be. Maybe every other second he was looking over at the stream and scouring the screen for Elliott. There was a lot of footage to cover, a lot of teams to show - there was a chance he wouldn’t actually get to see Elliott on the first day. 

But then the overlay showing veteran players fell away from someone named Bloodhound, transitioning from something dark brown to a golden yellow. The Legend Card switched over and the knife-wielding hunter was replaced with Elliott’s smiling face. It was a still, one where he was aiming a wink at the camera and dual finger-guns, curls pushed up and out of his face by the goggles sat atop his forehead. The stats on the Legend card might have been impressive, but Taejoon still didn’t know enough about the Games to say for sure. A green K/D was good, though, that he knew.

The commentators were calling him Mirage, raving about his 41% accuracy with a Wingman, and shared a laugh over the mention of some of his antics. Taejoon’s fingers paused over the keyboard of the laptop, even after the reboot had finished, and watched the gunfight that was unfolding. 

There was something different, Taejoon noticed, about the man he saw on screen from the one he knew. It must have been small, so subtle that he actually couldn’t tell what it was, just knew that it was there. The way Mirage moved, in and out of cover, peeking corners, sliding from building to building and ducking underneath gunfire - it reminded Taejoon of the confidence Elliott had in his bar. He threw out a hologram with a distinct purpose, a task in mind. Sometimes, it looked like single handedly wiping a team of three was just as easy for Mirage as mixing a cocktail was for Elliott. 

But there was still  _ something _ . 

The game ended after another hour and a half. Taejoon wasn’t too clear on who won, but he knew it wasn’t Mirage. Another hour after that and he’s getting a slew of text messages, phone buzzing frantically across the surface of his desk. 

**_Hey_ ** **_  
_ ** **_I’m supposed to be doing PR at afterparty_ ** **_  
_ ** **_But I wanted to say goodnihgt_ ** **_  
_ ** **_Goodnight_ ** **_  
_ ** **_I hope you’re not already sleeping_ ** **_  
_ ** **_Because these would be annoying_ ** **_  
_ ** **_Turn your pgone on silent_ ** **_  
_ ** **_Phone_ ** **_  
_ ** **_I didn’t win :(_ **

Taejoon had looked away from the final cleanup he was running on the laptop to watch each text come in, brow raised at the speed. Finally, when the messages stopped and nothing more came through after thirty seconds, Taejoon picked his phone up to answer.

**_20 kills, isn’t that good ?_ **

**_Oh you’re awake_ ** , Elliott’s response said.  **_Idk why I’m surprised tbh_ ** **_  
_ ** **_For scrims tho it’s pretty averge_ ** **_  
_ ** **_Average_ ** **_  
_ ** **_A lot of teams and easy elims_ ** **_  
_ ** **_You watched????_ **

The laptop’s screen turned a friendly blue, much better than the blue he’d been seeing all night. Taejoon was going to do the owner a favor and install the most extensive ad blocker extension he knew of. 

Before he did that, he answered Elliott.  **_yes i did. i like your costume, very yellow_ **

Taejoon laughed at the sudden and singular “ _ babe _ ” that earned him in a near instant.

**_It’s not a costume :(((_ ** **_  
_ ** **_It’s a tactical jumpsuit_ ** **_  
_ ** **_I actually have to go now_ ** ****__  
**_I’ll miss you even tho you’re mean to me_ ** **_  
_ ** ****_Goodnight!!!!_

**_goodnight elliott_ **

\----=----

The aching pulse thrummed against her head, inside, like the space her brain took up was replaced with an aged speaker. It buzzed and crackled and the sounds formed words, and the words were said in  _ her  _ voice.  She tried to drown them out with music, but no matter how high the volume or how sensitive the headphones, the voices always bled through. It always got worse at night when the only sounds were the hum of the ship and the turbulence against the paneling.

Pacing didn’t help, only made her muscles burn from the restlessness. She needed to do something, needed to focus on something, anything other than trying to pick out a singular voice rather than the cacophony, trying to make out just a word of their ramblings.

The sound of her door hissing open is like a physical strike, one she recoiled away from. She used the wall as she progressed, leaning on it heavily on her way out of the dorms, her other hand pressing its knuckles firmly into her temple. The further she moved down the hall, the more the pain melted into prickling numbness. Her arm fell to her side and the sweat on her brow suddenly felt cold. She realized why when she turned the corner, finding the dorms' kitchen light on. They always got quiet around people. She didn’t know why yet. They hadn’t explained that one. 

Deciding she needed a coffee, she moved toward the light, settling her expression down into something she knew would get people to look the other way. Scaring the curious away was definitely easier than having them ask questions, that she learned for herself.

The coffee machine was already on. Given the fact that it was so late, she thought it a little odd. Especially since it was Mirage who was standing by it. She knew Bloodhound kept weird hours and if she were to hazard a guess, her bet would have been on them or Caustic wanting caffeine at this hour. After hearing Mirage mention “needing his beauty sleep” almost every time he announced he was going to bed, she never would have thought she’d be meeting him like this. 

He practically jumped out of his skin when she opened the cabinet right beside him, nearly dropping the phone he’d had in his hands. “ _ Wraith, _ ” he berated, hand on his chest. “I get that it’s late and it’s polite to be quiet, but I could have  _ screamed _ .” 

“Why’re you up?” She asked, pulling down the closest mug she could reach.

Mirage stepped aside easily when she gestured for him to, giving her access to the coffee pot. “Why do you wanna know?”

“Because,” Wraith argued back flatly. “I want to see what’s so important so I can judge for myself if it’ll be worth your whining tomorrow because you’re too tired.”

He gawked at her, completely scandalized. “I - it  _ is  _ important, and I wouldn’t whine.”

She scoffed. “What is it?” 

Mirage scowled but didn’t answer.

“Fan Q&A?” Wraith teased. She took a sip of the coffee and made sure she didn’t grimace. She almost wished she had waited for Lifeline to wake up to make it. 

“It isn’t  _ anything _ ,” Mirage bit back.

_ He’s hiding something _ , a whisper told her as she moved over to rummage around in the fridge. “Spit it out, Witt,” she said to him as she read the expiration date on the creamer she’d found. 

“It’s my boyfriend,” Mirage got out in a rush. 

Wraith looked up at him, considering. Maybe she should have seen that one coming. A smirk slowly made its way across her face. “You’re telling me,” she went on, slowly. “That the Frontier’s very own crowd nominated handsomest bachelor  _ isn’t  _ actually a bachelor?”

“To them? Yes I absolutely am, one hundred percent - especially the handsomest part. Thank you for remembering that, by the way.” 

“No problem.” Her coffee tasted more like milk than coffee now, but it was an improvement from before. Not a great one, but enough of one for it to count. Instead of making her way to the exit, Wraith put her back to the counter and leaned against it, crossing her arms the best she could while she held her mug. The company was helping her headache. 

“It’s just - he’s a private person. He doesn’t talk much and he doesn’t like attention on him and he hasn’t  _ asked _ me to say anything to anyone, so I just haven’t. And I kinda like having something on the downlow, y’know? ‘Course you do, you don’t even like people knowing your name.” 

Wraith decided to leave out the fact that she  _ herself _ didn’t even know her own name. “Didn’t peg you as someone who’s into the quiet type.”

“I didn’t either, to be honest but he's - he's great, y'know? He’s really smart, too - he’s an engineer, like me and my mom but actually not really, since his is more computers and we’re more - but that -  _ that _ doesn’t really matter. He’s  _ smart _ , and funny, and he’s got this really deep voice I also didn’t know I was into, either, but here I am, I guess. And he’s kind of an asshole, but in a good way because he’s also really nice and it’s been, like, four months and he hasn’t tried to blackmail me yet, which is always a good sign - “

It’s right about then that Mirage seemed to realize he’d been rambling. Wraith hadn’t had any intentions of making him stop, but that might not have come across in her expression. She’d let her eyes go unfocused as she listened, staring at the ball of water hanging from the faucet and heard him speak rather than watched him say the words. 

He trailed off, cleared his throat, and went back to his phone with a sheepish, “Yeah, anyway.” 

Wraith liked Mirage. He was a good teammate; he worked well with her and Pathfinder, helping them rise up to the top tier in that season’s Legend bracket. He could be a dumbass at times, sure, but he did so in a way that was indisputably charming. They got along with each other really well, despite how much they really shouldn’t if one was going off of what they were like on paper. Wraith would almost consider him brother-like, annoying and easy to bicker with but one you didn’t want to see hurt. She would certainly call him a friend. She needed those.

“What’s his name?” She asked him, a gentle and genuine urge to continue.

“Taejoon,” Mirage told her, quickly, like he’d been  _ dying _ to say it. 

And then there’s a ringing in her ears, loud, and in a voice that sounded like her someone whispered, “ _ Remember that name _ .” 

The ringing was gone almost immediately, left as sudden as it came on. She blinked hard and gripped her mug with two hands, as just the one was shaking too much. Slowly, Mirage’s talking seeped back in. 

“I’m going to visit him during the break this month after I see my mom. It’d be the first time I’ve seen him in person since, like, before the season started.”

“How did you meet this guy?”

If Mirage noticed her clipped tone, he didn’t show it. “Well, remember how I told you about the smart thing? He developed the filming drones they use for the games, and when I was grounded getting my cloaking worked on - which they still  _ denied _ , by the way - he was there working on repairs.”

“And how long have you known him?”

“Four months, almost five.” He didn’t even have to think about it.

Taejoon. Why would the voices warn her about Taejoon? Mirage’s secret boyfriend? Was it because he was visiting him soon? Was something going to happen? Was she supposed to say anything? Stop him from going? Was the warning even for  _ her _ ? 

Wraith frowned. Her head was starting to hurt again.

“Do you trust him?” She couldn’t help but ask.

He blinked at her, obviously confused at the question. “Yes? He hasn’t blackmailed me, like I said.”

“That’s a low bar.” 

“Yeah,” he said, drawing out the word. “I’m kinda realizing I have shitty ex’s.”

Wraith nodded along with him. “Yeah. Looks like it.”

“Listen, you won’t, uh, you won’t  _ tell _ anyone about this, right?” 

“That’s a stupid question to ask me, Mirage,” she told him after a quiet scoff. Pushing up off the counter, she tipped her mug and dumped what was left of the creamer-coffee into the sink on the island in front of them, leaving the mug there once it seeped down the drain. “I don’t talk to anyone.” 

“You talk to Path,” Mirage rebutted. 

“So do you.”

“Yeah, but - not about  _ this _ .” 

“Why would  _ I _ talk to Path about your secret boyfriend?” 

“Forget it,” Mirage pouted, going back to his phone. 

Wraith didn’t laugh, but it was a close thing. “I’m not going to gossip with our teammate, Mirage.” 

He gave an exaggerated nod. “ _Thank_ you.”

The headache that was ailing her was a whisper of what it was, and it left behind a wave of exhaustion that came on suddenly. “You’ll have a good time,” she assured him before she headed for the doorway. She’d be able to sleep now, and she wasn’t going to risk putting it off just in case she got a second wind. 

“I know,” Mirage said with one of his huge grins. Then, in a conscious effort to be polite, he asked. “What are you doing on break?” 

Wraith paused in the entryway long enough to shrug and, in a smooth monotone, say, “Probably nothing. I have to cancel my original plans - me and Pathfinder usually get together and gossip about you and your secret boyfriend when you’re not around.” 

“That’s not funny,” he whisper-yelled after her. “I don’t think you’re funny!”

She mostly ignored him, retreating back down the hall toward her dorm.

_Taejoon_. 

The mumblings and whispers she heard in the quiet didn't have a clear purpose. She'd joined the Apex Games to search for resources to gather answers, since the voices didn't have much in way of those for her. They hinted, gave vague warnings, and at times they could get aggravating. Painful. But they were never wrong. If they wanted her to remember that name, then she would. 

For this dimension, or another. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha yeah OOPS 
> 
> aight anyway THREE the two patrons i mention in mirage's bar, one is obviously bloodhound since i feel like that's a patent in apex fics where they're not the main focus. they're just vaguely described and no one makes a mention of it. i love that trope. the lady, i got no idea who she is. just thought it was funny that mirage's bar is so chill some fiction editor or smth uses it as a substitute coffee-shop vibe
> 
> FOUR the whiskey tjp orders is made up - i think????? - because idk titanfall lore or its alcohol if any has ever been mentioned. i was originally gonna have him order crown bcuz it's smoov but it's also fucking expensive and i doubt that mr anxiety taejoon park would never order anything that wasn't laughably cheap when someone else is paying for him. also i'm unashamedly putting my headcanon where tjp drinks without flinching, which is why mirage has a second of surprise when he orders. this little nerd lookin dude who weighs like 153lbs walks in ur bar and is like "hi, yes, sir, your hardest whiskey, thank you", wyd?
> 
> my word i'm making these extensive 
> 
> FIVE i mention tjp's work like two different times, one is an actual job where i imagine he has to sit in those shitty cubicles as a tech support for a company i don't feel like naming. the other "work" he does at home or on the train is vague on purpose (also yeah don't ask about the OS being windows-adjacent in a futuristic titanfall fic, bro, i'm not smart) 
> 
> SIX time skips. between every break there's time skips after the date, the biggest one being after the prelims and the night meeting with wraith. i don't mention it or make it obvious because i'm bad at writing. i just vibe next to a keyboard and post it. that's how this fic is happening
> 
> so yeah next update is idk when, like always. genuinely, i hope anyone reading this, whether you're liking it or hating it, has a good holiday. give your homies kisses on the lips and say it's from me :^)

**Author's Note:**

> yeah that's it for right now. there isn't even long distance in the first chapter, I'M A FRAUD. 
> 
> updates are gonna be sporadic as hell, since i'm still actively writing. ratings might change, tags will update.
> 
> i'm sure i missed something i wanted to say. tumblr's konsawriter


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